


Sickchester Vol 1

by Pineprin137



Series: Sickchester: The Complete Collection [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Constipation, Dean Winchester Whump, Dean gets grossed out, F/M, Fainting, Hunters & Hunting, Jack sneezes for the first time, Mary Winchester being a mom, Sam is... helpful?, Sibling disagreement, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Teen Dean Winchester, Vomiting, Wincest if you squint, stomach flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: A collection of sickfics featuring our favorite f***ed up family.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester & Mary Winchester
Series: Sickchester: The Complete Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683565
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	1. Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Mainly Dean because he is my favorite character.

A pained grunt comes from behind the bathroom door. Sam looks up from the lore book he’s reading. 

He calls out, “You okay in there?” 

“ _ Fuck off _ ,” is the snarled reply.

Sam chuckles and goes back to reading about banshees. So far, he hasn’t found anything to suggest they  _ ever _ travel in groups. 

“How many did she say she saw?” Sam yells to his brother. 

The bathroom door opens _ \-- no flush, he notices.  _ Dean walks over to the other bed and gingerly lays down on his side facing Sam. 

“Three, at least.” 

“Dean, there’s nothing. I’ve gone over every mention of banshees in the books  _ and _ in dad’s journal. There’s nothing that suggests they would ever hunt in a pack. They’re solitary creatures.” 

“So what, you think she was lying?” Dean asks, his teeth gritted as another cramp rolls through his gut. 

He hasn’t been able to take a proper dump in the last three days. He’d finally although  _ reluctantly _ , agreed this morning to try the stool softener Sam bought yesterday. The younger Winchester had to walk past the drugstore on his way to the library and decided to stop in. 

Now, the brothers are hanging out in the room digging through lore on banshees waiting for the medication to take effect. 

Sam shrugs in answer to Dean’s question. “Maybe. More likely, she freaked out when she saw it. Probably  _ thinks _ she saw multiple when there was only one.” 

“I don’t know, man, she seemed pretty--” the older Winchester suddenly cuts off. Through clenched teeth, he hisses, “ _ Son of a bitch _ ...” 

Sam looks over at his brother. Dean is curled in a fetal position, muscles tensing painfully with each cramp. He's biting his lip to silence his whimpering, but his eyes are squeezed tightly closed. 

Sam rises and walks over to the table where the box of stool softeners lay. 

“Here,” he says, tossing the box on the bed in front of Dean’s face. “Take another dose.” 

Dean ignores the box to curl protectively over his abdomen. “ _ Argh...fuck... _ ” 

Sam sighs before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He pops two tablets out of the foil, tries to hand them to Dean. His brother stubbornly refuses to release his hold on his grumbling gut. 

Sam pinches the pills between his fingers, holds them against Dean’s lips. “Open.” 

It takes the other man a good minute to control his breathing enough that he can manage to open his mouth without gritting his teeth. Sam quickly slips the pills inside then picks up the glass from the nightstand. Dean utters a pathetic whine and buries his face in the pillow. 

Sam rests a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dude, you have to drink water with them or they won’t be as effective.” 

Dean turns to face him. Sam almost gasps when he sees tear tracks on his big brother’s face. His worry grows. 

Sam can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen his brother cry. Twice due to horrific injuries, once from extreme stress, once in his sleep during an intense nightmare and the last time… When Sam announced to John that he was leaving for Stanford the ensuing fight had stolen all of his attention, but now, looking back, he remembers Dean had tears in his eyes. Whether out of pride or despair, Sam would probably never know. 

Out of the two brothers, Sam is much more willing to show his emotional side. Spending his childhood watching two emotionally repressed men drown their sorrows in cheap whiskey and take out their anger on supernatural creatures made him realize that he didn’t want to live like that. 

As much as he idolizes his older brother, he has no desire to follow in dad’s footsteps like Dean. 

But right now, it is almost too much for Sam. Seeing the desperate plea in his brother’s eyes, the overwhelming emotional flashback-- He suddenly wants to retreat back to the safety of his bed and lose himself in research. 

Instead, he slides his hand under Dean’s head and helps him sit up so he can drink the water. The position is awkward but he doesn’t move until the glass is empty. Only then does Sam cross the small gap and crawl back onto his own bed. 

Two hours later, the brothers venture out into the cool evening in search of food. 

Dean slept fitfully for a while but though the medication helped ease the intense cramps, he still has yet to have an actual bowel movement. When the older man became restless, Sam suggested getting dinner at the diner next door. He knows how stir-crazy Dean can get without something to keep him busy, not to mention distract him from the pain. 

The boys slide into a large booth near the restrooms (in case the medicine decides to work). Sam pulls up the website he had been looking at back in the room and picks up where he left off while Dean looks over the menu. 

After a few minutes, a busty brunette approaches the table. Sam smiles at her. Dean practically undresses her with his eyes. 

Sam snatches the menu from Dean’s hands while he is busy ogling. He ignores his brother’s annoyed huff and orders two soup-and-salad specials. 

“We’ll both have the soup and salad combo. With lentil soup and the um, apple cranberry spinach salad with vinaigrette. Waters for both, plus an apple juice for him. Thanks.” 

Dean’s brow creases in confusion. He opens his mouth to order something different but Sam cuts him off.

“Do you guys have any pie left?” Sam asks the waitress. 

She nods. “Sure. Would you like me to go check?” 

Sam smiles. “Please. Thank you.” 

As soon as she walks away, Sam prepares himself for Dean's bitchfit. He adjusts his napkin and silverware, flips through the advertisements on the table, taps on his keyboard. 

Finally, though, he has no other excuses. He lifts his eyes to meet his brother’s. 

Dean’s arms are crossed, his chin tucked toward his chest. He's panting through his nose. 

Leaning forward, Sam tilts his head in concern. “Dean?” 

The other man only hums in response. “Hm.” 

“You okay?” Sam asks when Dean’s face suddenly scrunches up.

Dean sucks in a pained gasp. His eyes shoot open, but he avoids looking at Sam. He slowly scoots to the end of the booth. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Sam doesn’t have time to reply before Dean stands and makes his way over to the men’s room. 

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Dean beelines for the sink. Another cramp rolls through his abdomen. He grips the edge of the sink, panting through clenched teeth as his discomfort increases. Then, the hunter feels something shift in his gut. He almost breathes a sigh of relief as he walks over to the handicapped stall, knowing what is coming. 

God, after almost four days of feeling cramped and uncomfortable, it is heavenly to finally get it out. With each loud splash, Dean feels a little lighter. 

Once the three-day-old blockage is gone, several waves of liquid shit follow and he groans. The smell is awful and Dean pities the next desperate fucker who takes refuge in this stall. 

He gently massages his belly, encouraging his body to expel everything that has been causing him so much pain. 

As he unwinds the toilet roll and prepares to clean up, a bunch of trapped gas escapes in the form of several soft burps and a final sputtering fart. 

When he finally stands and flushes  _ (three times because he wrecked some serious havoc on that poor innocent toilet bowl…) _ , Dean feels like a new person. His gut is no longer distended and he can walk upright again. The pain is finally gone and his hunger has returned. 

God, he is  _ starving _ . Fuck rabbit food-- As soon as he gets back to the table, he is going to order a double bacon cheeseburger, extra onions, and a huge side of fries… maybe even  _ two _ slices of pie. 

God knows, he earned it. 


	2. Bunker

Dean scrambled for the large bowl on the bedside table and hunches over it as the soup he just finished comes back up. 

Mary grimaces but places her hand on the sick man's back anyway. 

Sam sighs from his spot in the doorway. “That didn’t last long."

Dean’s back arches beneath Mary’s fingers, another stream of dull red vomit splashes into the bowl. A string of spit hangs from his bottom lip. Mary picks up the washcloth to wipe it away. Dean holds up his hand, stopping her. His shoulders jerk forward once, twice-- the third heave causes tomato soup to drip out of his nose as he pukes. 

Catching their mother's disgusted grimace, Sam enters the room to trade places with her. Mary walks over to the dresser to pull out a fresh change of clothes for Dean then heads down the hall to ready the bathroom. 

Sam turns his focus back to his sick brother. Dean can barely breathe in between the painful retches. 

“Easy, Dean… you’re going to hurt yourself if you’re not careful.” 

Dean coughs hard, but when nothing else comes up, he raises his head. Sam guides the glass of water to his brother's chapped lips so he can sip from it. Dean swishes the water around his mouth then spits into the basin before flopping back onto his pillow. He feels utterly exhausted. 

“You finished?” Sam asks. 

Dean nods. Sam carefully sets the bowl down on the nightstand then cards his fingers through his brother’s sweat-soaked hair. 

“We’ll try again in a while. But first, you need a shower… and sleep.” 

Well-acquainted with the routine after two full days of being bed-ridden by a stomach bug, Dean just sighs in resignation before allowing Sam to help him up. 

The room spins sickeningly and his grasp on Sam’s shirt tightens. 

Sam stands still. He has no desire to rush the sick man.

Both of Dean’s caretakers learned the hard way, yesterday, that if they don’t give him a minute to adjust after standing, he will either pass out or throw up. 

Sam smoothes his hand over his brother’s back, cringing slightly at how damp it is. “Just breathe… We’ll go when you’re ready.” 

When Dean finally nods, Sam leads him down the hall and into the bathroom where their mother waits. 

The first thing Mary does is slip a thermometer between Dean’s lips. He doesn’t fight it, just lets it rest there while Sam pulls his tee-shirt over his head and removes his sweats. Thankfully, the younger man will wait until after Mary leaves to slip Dean's underwear off. 

The thermometer beeps. Mary plucks it out of his mouth then peers at the tiny screen. 

“100.5,” she announces, wiping it off with a damp rag before laying it back down on the counter. She smiles at her sick son. “It’s gone down since the last time.” 

She then turns to Sam. “Did he drink anything?” 

Sam shifts Dean so the sick man can lean on Mary while he turns on the shower. When the water is luke-warm, he walks back over to them. 

He responds to Mary's question, “No, he managed to rinse his mouth, that’s it.” 

Mary walks over to the sink and fills a glass half-way with tap water. She nods at her youngest son. 

“Sit him down on the bench.” 

She hands Dean the glass, warns him, “Small sips.” 

Dean looks pleadingly at Sam, hoping he can get out of drinking anything, but his traitorous brother only gestures to the glass so, with a heavy sigh, Dean cautiously drinks. 

The glass is at least three-fourths empty when he decides that is all he can handle. His stomach gurgles unhappily. Dean winces. 

Satisfied that her eldest is at least somewhat hydrated, Mary leaves the boys to finish up while she goes back to Dean’s room to change his sheets and empty the sick bowl. 

Sam grasps his brother’s shoulders, walks him over to the shower. He crouches down so Dean can place one hand on each of his shoulders. After a short pause, the sick man lifts his feet so Sam is able to remove his underwear. 

Sam then positions Dean so he is supported by the wall then quickly sheds his own clothes. 

As soon as they step into the spray, Dean’s head falls forward onto Sam’s shoulder. 

“Aw, man, I know you’re tired. We just need to clean the sweat off of you and then you can sleep, okay?” 

Dean mumbles something unintelligible in reply. 

“Alright, here we go,” Sam whispers, drizzling shampoo into his hand and lathering his brother’s hair. Dean moans in ecstasy. It feels amazing. 

Sam chuckles, “Uh-huh... not hating the shower  _ now _ , are you?” 

He hears a small whimper and looks down, sees Dean’s forehead crease. He settles his hand on the other man’s hip. 

“Hey, talk to me... what is it?” 

Dean shuffles his feet a little and his cock bumps against Sam’s. Sam glances down between them to see his brother clutching himself. 

Relieved he isn’t feeling sick, Sam leans down to kiss Dean’s temple. 

“Hey, it’s okay. If you need to go, this is the time to do it.” 

Dean hesitates. Sam smiles and brushes his wet hair off his face.

“I won’t tell Mom…  _ promise _ .” 

With a small sigh, Dean finally relaxes against him. 

Pee dribbles onto Sam’s feet but he doesn’t care. He is too busy paying attention to the color of his brother’s urine and how long the stream lasts. 

It is still a murky yellow color and isn’t anywhere near a full bladder’s worth, but it  _ is  _ an improvement from this morning when Dean only managed a few weak spurts. 

“Better?” He asks once his brother is finished. Dean nods. 

He grimaces when Sam runs the warm wet cloth over his dick and balls. Although It feels nice, his stomach has begun churning angrily, protesting the water Mary made him drink. Dean swallows, desperately trying to keep it down. Sam must notice a change in his posture because the washcloth pauses in its journey across his chest and back. 

The younger man reaches up to cup Dean’s cheek. 

“Feeling bad?” 

Dean nods.  _ “I think I need to puke… ”  _

Sam carefully turns him around so Dean's leaning directly over the drain.

Dean burps, expelling all of the water in one large gush. Sam keeps one hand on his brother’s back and the other across his chest so the sick man won’t fall forward. 

A second even more forceful heave brings up the dregs of the soup. 

Dean chokes and hacks, trying in vain to clear his throat. Sam firmly pats him between his shoulder blades. Strings of bile drip onto the floor. 

When he can finally breathe again, Dean shakily rises. He feels extremely light-headed after getting sick, the room rushing by in a dizzy kaleidoscope. He sways into his brother. 

Sam keeps one arm around Dean’s waist while he uses the other to clean off his face. 

Dean’s head feels like it is in a vice. His chest is too tight and he needs to sit down. But when he tries to tell his brother, it comes out in breathy fragments. 

“ _ Sammy… gotta… sit…”  _

Luckily, the other man understands him perfectly. Sam carefully lowers them both to the shower floor, sitting with his back against the wall. Dean’s eyes roll back in his head and he collapses.

Sam juggles his brother’s prone form into a more comfortable position then surveys the room, trying to figure out how the hell he is going to get Dean back to his room. The younger man can usually lift his brother just fine, but the floor is slick and Sam doesn’t want to risk injuring one or both of them. 

He only has one choice… 

He leans his head as far from Dean’s ear as he can manage then yells, " _ MOM! _ ”

When there is no response, he tries again, but this time he covers his brother’s ears with his hands. 

“ _ MARY! _ ” 

It takes three tries before Sam finally hears their mother’s footsteps approaching. 

She stops just outside the door, calls out to Sam, “You decent?” 

“No, but I kind of need your help…” Sam replies. 

Mary quickly enters the bathroom and heads for the shower. She can hear it still running. 

“What happened?” she asks when she rounds the corner and spots both of her sons on the floor. 

She steps into the shower and turns the water off then squats so she is eye level with Sam. 

“Is he okay? What happened?” 

Sam sighs, “He got sick again and then he said he needed to sit down. We barely made it to the floor before he fainted.” 

Mary nods. “Okay, what do you need me to do?” 

“Can you grab a towel so I can dry him off somewhat? And uh, my sweats, too.” 

Mary gathers the requested items then lifts Dean off of Sam so the younger man can stand. 

Once Sam is dressed, he hauls Dean up by his armpits. Mary dries him off then tucks a towel around his waist. 

With both of them now ‘dressed’, Sam hefts Dean into his arms and carries his big brother down the hall while Mary follows with their clothes. 


	3. Teen-chesters

Dean smirks while watching the other boys attempt to chug their bottles of soda. The young hunter waits patiently for each of them to fail, observing their mistakes and taking careful notes in his head. 

Darlene, the girl Dean has been dating while stuck in town, joins him. She stands directly in front of him, her ass pressing against his jean-clad cock. He settles his hands on her hips and pulls her flush against him, widening his stance so he can tease her. 

There is no doubt in Dean's mind that he'll end up fucking her before heading back to the motel tonight  _ alone _ . 

She giggles when his newly-grown stubble scratches her neck while he leaves open-mouthed kisses all the way up her throat. 

“Are you going to try?” She asks him. 

Dean smirks against her pale skin. “I’m going to win.” 

She turns around looping her arms around his neck and kisses him. She tastes like Dr. Pepper, smells like vanilla. 

Dean secretly loves Darlene's perfume. The fragrance matches her personality perfectly-- sweet  _ and _ sassy. Whenever they mess around, he comes home smelling like a cupcake. Sammy will just roll his eyes, but John likes to tease him about it. Dean hates it when his dad does that. It isn’t like John is one to judge. 

All of their dad’s female _*ahem*_ _friends_ smell like whiskey and gun oil, but Dean finds the familiar scent a huge turn-off. He is around hunting all the time so when he chooses to spend a little alone time with someone, he prefers for his companion to be as girly as possible. 

And Darlene? Oh, she is  _ deliciously _ feminine. All sweet and soft--  _ delicate _ even. Enough so that it is nothing for Dean to lift her up so she can wrap her smooth legs around his waist. 

The redhead kisses him again before suddenly tugging on his hand. “Ooh, I think it’s your turn!” 

Dean follows her over to the circle of their fellow classmates. Most of the teens kept their distance from Dean when he first arrived two weeks ago-- which he appreciates-- but Darlene and her brother Max latched onto him. They think he is cool. Max especially, hopes it will rub off on him. 

Darlene does that adorable hair flip that drives the young hunter crazy then sashays over to the ‘Keeper of the Bottle’. Yeah, they have a name for the kid who is in charge of passing out the one-liter bottles of Coke and Dr. Pepper. 

It is Dean’s kind of set-up: ten bucks to buy in, five to bet on or against someone, and the rules are simple. The kid who chugs their bottle the fastest, without spewing, wins the pot. 

Dean smiles to himself, this will be a piece of cake. He’s been tossing down bets since he was old enough to understand what money was. Gambling is an easy way to earn food money when he and Sam run out. People are constantly underestimating the teen so he turned it into an advantage. 

The chosen ‘Keeper’ of the night, a scrawny kid named Evan, rolls his eyes when the feisty girl stops in front of him. 

He sneers at her, “You can’t play, Darlene. It’s boys only right now.” 

She sniffs in annoyance, “I am well aware of the rules…  _ Evan _ . I’m not here to get one for me. It’s for Dean.” She points over her shoulder at the young hunter. Dean acknowledges the other boy with a nod. 

Obviously annoyed that the petite redhead has a valid reason for bugging him, Evan quickly grabs an unopened bottle and shoves it at her. Darlene turns and heads back over to Dean, slapping Evan in the face with her long hair as she goes. 

Dean smirks. He will miss her after John makes them pack up and leave again. 

Darlene hands him the bottle then stands on her tiptoes so she can kiss him. Dean almost groans. He knows she is showing off, rubbing him in the other girls’ faces. Instead of rolling his eyes, however, he decides to play along. She  _ is  _ hot after all. So he wraps his arm around her and cups her ass before bending down to shove his tongue in her mouth. Darlene makes a little surprised yip and this time, Dean gives in to the temptation.

He groans low in his throat, pulling her up against him. Right when she is getting into it, as well as half of the other kids in the room, Dean steps away.

He brushes his thumb over her bottom lip and smirks. “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Darlene blushes prettily then moves to the side so he can lift the bottle to his lips. 

When the young hunter collects his winnings a few minutes later, Darlene stays glued to his side. He quickly counts to make sure no one skimped him then leads her outside. She jumps on him as soon as they are out of the backdoor. 

Dean walks them over to a large tree, tells her to hold on. He waits until she has stopped wiggling then slides the money in his back pocket and pulls out a shiny foil packet. 

He slips it between her lips. “Mind holding that for me?” 

Darlene giggles, her hair bouncing when she shakes her head. 

Dean uses one hand to lift her higher up on his body then undoes his belt buckle and unzips his ripped jeans. He shoves his pants and underwear down then grabs the packet from her and rips it open with his teeth. He slides the condom onto his dick then positions himself so he can push into her wet heat. 

Nowhere near a novice, Dean captures the young woman’s cries with his mouth. 

He guides her hands up to the thick branch above their heads. “Hold on to that and squeeze me with your legs. Don’t let go.”

She quickly obliges and Dean is able to move one hand from her hip onto the tree. He fucks her hard and dirty. The goal is to get off, not make love. He’s never made love to any of the girls he’s been with. It is always fast, usually rough, sometimes kinky. 

Dean Winchester _ fucks _ , he doesn’t  _ make love _ . 

As the young hunter approaches his orgasm, his stomach starts to protest the continued jostling and Dean realizes he needs to burp pretty badly. But it isn’t like he can just do it right in Darlene’s face. Not when she is biting her lip, her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed. 

One of the buttons on her shirt pops open and then, Dean has a face-full of perky teenage breasts. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the nub. Darlene mewls and begs him to do the same to the other one. 

His stomach, on the other hand, begs him not to… 

Darlene whimpers-- one hand abandoning the branch to clutch at the back of his head while she squeezes him tightly with her sweat-slicked thighs. Her pussy clenches his dick and Dean grunts as he comes. 

They stand there, panting, goofy smiles on their faces while they kiss until Dean suddenly feels a familiar pressure rise in his chest. This time it isn’t a burp. 

“Oh, shit, get off…” 

Darlene looks at him confused, but Dean simply lifts her off then sets her on the ground. 

The young hunter stumbles forward and braces his hands on his knees. A series of quiet burps proceed a large belch and he dips his head lower, frothy vomit spilling onto the grass. 

The busty redhead cautiously approaches him holding out a packet of tissues. Dean accepts the kind gesture and pulls one out then hands the pack back to her. He quickly blows his nose then wipes his chin off and deposits the dirty tissue in the grass. After he cleans up, he stands so he can remove the used condom from his limp dick. He ties it in a knot then tosses it onto the frothy grass before tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling his jeans up. 

“Are you… okay?” Darlene quietly asks when Dean rejoins her. 

“Peachy,” he replies. 

He slings his arm around her waist then leads her towards the street where her truck is parked. When they are a few feet away, Darlene turns to him. 

“Do you want me to drive?” 

Silently offended,--  _ It is just an upset stomach! He’s driven Dad and Sammy with a broken wrist. This is nothing! _ \-- Dean shakes his head. 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

“Okay.” 

The drive back to the rundown motel the Winchesters are currently calling home is quiet. Darlene spends the first fifteen minutes with her hands in her lap, resolutely staring out the window while Dean silently stews, trying to focus on the road. 

_ Jesus. It was just a little puke. She doesn’t have to be so weird about it... _

The young hunter finally caves half-way to their destination switching hands on the steering wheel so he can rest his arm on the back of the bench seat. Darlene glances over her shoulder and smiles, quickly snuggling into his side. The rest of the drive is filled with idle chatter about school and plans to see a movie this weekend. 

Dean pulls into the lot, parks in front of Room Thirteen, a.k.a. Home Sweet Temporary Home. When he crawls out of the truck a few minutes later, the young woman slides across the seat and leans out the window to kiss him. She waits until he is safely inside before pulling out and heading home.

When Dean enters the room, he takes a quick look around. Sam is curled up in their shared bed while their father is nowhere to be found. Dean guesses he is either out hunting or getting shitfaced at the bar down the road. 

The teen shuffles over to the duffle bag he shares with his brother and pulls out a clean pair of underwear before heading into the bathroom. After the door shuts, Dean shucks his jeans so he can survey the damage. He felt himself piss a little when he puked earlier, but it hadn’t seemed too bad. In the bright light of the bathroom, he thankfully only finds a small wet spot that he can easily explain away as tucking his dick back in too quickly after peeing. 

He hops in the shower, making sure it is only lukewarm-- Dad will tan his hide if there is no hot water in the morning-- and scrubs the grime off his skin. The young hunter burps openly while he soaps up, massaging his belly to free most of the trapped air. 

After he gets out, Dean dries off then slips his boxer briefs on before moving to the sink to brush his teeth. There is one point when he accidentally gags himself and ends up puking foam onto the dingy porcelain, but other than that, he is good. 

John comes back to the room just as Dean is finishing up his Algebra homework at the small table. The hunter pauses beside his oldest son for only a moment before grabbing a beer from the fridge and snatching the bottle of whiskey from the nightstand. He disappears into the bathroom. 

Dean sighs. John had definitely been hunting. The whiskey will be used to clean any wounds and chase away possible nightmares. John will nurse the beer during a long shower. When his father comes out in half an hour, Dean doesn’t want to be anywhere near him.

The young hunter closes his math book and sets it on the chair next to the door then crawls into bed beside his brother. Sam immediately rolls over to worm his way under Dean’s arm. 

Dean rolls his eyes before placing his cheek on Sammy’s head and falling asleep. 


	4. Jack

Jack was in the backseat of the Impala the first time it happened. He felt a strange sensation in his nose and wanted to ask Sam about it, but the brothers were fuming after their latest argument so he decided it might be best not to bother them. The feeling traveled from the edge of his left nostril to just inside. He rubbed at it with the side of his finger. That seemed to help. He rested his head on the window and closed his eyes, trying to do as Dean had suggested and _ ‘get some shut eye’ _ . 

Jack was woken from his nap by that same odd tickling in his nose. He rubbed it again, hoping that would work, but if anything, the sensation got worse. His upper lip twitched involuntarily and for a moment, Jack wondered if he was having a seizure. He’d read about it in one of the medical books at the bunker. 

Suddenly, his entire body tensed and his eyes clenched shut. He jerked forward as a loud noise filled the interior of the car. Spit flew from his mouth-- the fine mist coated the dashboard and landed on Dean’s right arm. 

Dean cringed when Jack suddenly sneezed and he felt moisture on his arm. 

“Oh, gross!” He glared at his brother. 

“Maybe you should teach the spawn of Satan to cover his fucking mouth.” 

He wiped the kid’s snot off his sleeve then grabbed a rag from the glovebox to clean off Baby’s dash. He had just finished wiping her off when Jack sneezed again. This time it was louder and Dean looked back to tell the kid off. 

Instead of yelling though, he saw the state of Jack’s face and gagged. 

Sam looked up from his phone when he heard his brother gag. “What’s with you?” he asked testily. 

Dean gestured to the backseat with his thumb. “Would you tell him to clean his face off...” 

Sam twisted in his seat to see what was tripping his brother’s gag reflex. 

“Oh, geez! Uh, here.” He dug around in the glove compartment until he unearthed a couple of unused napkins and handed them back to Jack. 

Jack accepted them, looking at Sam questioningly. “What do I do with these?” 

“You can use them to wipe your nose. You uh, you have snot on your face.” 

“Snot?” Jack asked, his head tilted. 

Dean huffed from the driver’s seat. “Jesus fucking Christ. He doesn’t even know what snot is?” 

Sam turned to him, bitchface on full power. “You’re not helping.” He turned back to Jack. 

“Snot is the stuff in your nose. It keeps debris from entering your lungs. When you sneeze, it uh, comes out.” 

“Huh,” Jack said, wiping the napkin across his face. He peered closely at it and smiled. “It seems very important. Do I keep it?” 

Sam ignored Dean’s grimace, answered the young man honestly. “Uh, no. You blow your nose and then throw it away. You don’t need to uh, keep it.” 

The conversation was beginning to turn his stomach. Sam hoped they could move on to a less disgusting topic soon. 

Jack nodded and dropped the napkin. Dean scowled. 

“Please tell me he did not just drop his snotty rag on the floor.” 

“Is that not where it goes?” Jack asked with a frown. 

“ _ Sam… _ ” Dean growled. 

Sam huffed, “Dude, chill out. He’s still learning... No, Jack. That’s not where we put it. Just uh, crumple it up and stick it in your pocket for now. We’ll throw it out when we stop for gas.” 

“Okay,” Jack said. He leaned down and picked the dirty napkin off the floor then squeezed it in his hand before placing it in his jacket pocket. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that... I have finished my 100th fic! 
> 
> *squeals happily* 
> 
> Comments and kudos welcome :)


End file.
